It’s In The Bag
My friend came to lunch. Toting a fabulous pink Salvatore Ferragamo handbag. It’s in the photo. Near the back on the right. That’s her. In the store. Of fabulous handbags.
And out poured a story.
The store. Is named Spring Flowers. She called it “an Islamic Thrift Store, equivalent to the Salvation Army.” In a culture. Flush with cash. And not showing too much. The dinar are spent on bags and shoes. Very expensive bags and shoes. That are flashed around for maybe a month. Until they’re out of date. And are replaced. While she was there, she says a small harem came in and snapped up five bags in five minutes. Five for five.
The owner is a sweet woman and all the profits go to charity. She can spot a fake Fendi a mile away. Sharp. But sweet. Like cheddar and chocolate.
And then, with the all the finesse of a good storyteller, my friend says, “Have I told you that we ate at the Burger King on the Highway of Death near the Iraq border? Hmm?” Leaving me salivating for more. Stories.